Wednesday, January 4, 2017

Very chilly outside on Garbage Night - Poem: Laundry Day

Image result for willow grove physical therapy  The man could be me, as I was at the Hatboro Branch of Willow Grove Physical Therapy. AND this beautiful woman was there.

Knew my mom would love hearing about my physical problems.

"I didn't know you had vertigo?" she said.

"That's b/c I just got it!" I said.

Official name is benign positional vertigo.

Anne was my PT again. First she assesses you and then I do exercises.

Also for my left leg.

She was trying to put my ear crystals back in place by having me do exercises. "Watch my nose," she would say and hide her nose.

I'd lie on the table and turn my head and suddenly I'd be spinning within like a dreidl.

Terrible feeling. I'd grip the table as if I was gonna fall off.

Did I tell you I have pinkeye?

Oh, 47 times I told you?

Last night I spoke to Judy D of Niwot, Colorado, for about 68 minutes. Part of the time I was on bike.

At age 80, she said she's basically done everything, tried everything. She's a brilliant woman. She said she's not as fast a thinker as she used to be. Well, sez I, you're 95 percent of who you used to be. She can't drive in the dark... something called night blindness, which I have too.

In fact when I drove to and from the ND meeting, I couldn't see a goddamn thing. Worse, I didn't know how to use the defrost.

Scott told me this morning. Turn the level all the way to the right. Or was it the left. The right. Got it, Scottie!

I suggested Judy go to a senior citizen center and propose that she run a Movie Afternoon, like our Mauriccio does. Select a film and have a discussion afterward. Good for your mind, I told her.

At 2 am there's a repeat of the Frontline Program on Trump. I was busy during most of it, so I'd like to watch the entire documentary.

Dare I say it, but I think he's made a couple of good business moves, having the Ford plant stay in our country, and a couple other companies.

Will it make a difference?

Penicillin made a difference.

Organ transplants made a difference.

Oh, I forgot. I wanna write a poem about Prograf - tacrolimus - and submit to one of about 6 medical journals, not for the money - god forbid your Ruth Deming should make some money - but for the glory.

I wrote two people letters to donate to ND and was crushed when neither replied.

Yesterday, I told "Tommy" to write a poem about the laundromat. Did it today and will send it to Judy, who is computer-deaf.

The reason I put an Indian couple in the poem is cuz I'm listening to, in the kitchen, something by a Pakistani woman, very famous, wonderful character studies.


Vacuum cleaners
two-door fridge
with a water dispenser
on the outside

Is it any wonder
they risk their
lives to come
to America?

The poet's been here
his entire life.
Jersey-born, his
folks both dead,
he drives to the
laundromat, lugging
a wicker basket
full of dirty clothes.

He sorts the darks and
the lights, like his
mama done taught him,
then sits on a bench
fist on chin, Rodin's "Thinker."

The windows are steamed up
A young Indian couple, she
in sari, push their way
in through the steamy door,
and with business-like precision,
do what is necessary

The poet watches his
striped pajamas swirl
with merriment and glee
in the glass-windowed
dryer, sits up
and has an idea for a poem.

Image result for laundromat 19001

Image result for laundromat 19001  W

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